


Metamorphosis

by WantsUnicorns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, F/F, Post - Deathly Hallows, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-29
Updated: 2012-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-06 06:21:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/415735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WantsUnicorns/pseuds/WantsUnicorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life after the war is unforgiving. It doesn’t even seem to matter which side you fought for, people and their lives keep falling through the cracks, never to be seen again. Millicent is no exception. It takes someone unexpected to bring hope back into her life, but is hope alone enough?</p>
<p><b>Now with art by the amazing <a href="http://saintgilbert.livejournal.com/">SaintGilbert</a></b>. Find it <a href="http://saintgilbert.livejournal.com/17415.html">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metamorphosis

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thank you so much to my betas, thank you for taking the time to talk to me, to brainstorm with me and to help me turn this into the fic it became. Curi, Kristy and Kiss, I love you guys. Thanks also to my cheerleaders Maggie, Annie(thank you for Rafferty! :D) and LH, you’ve been wonderfully encouraging when I most needed it.  
> This was originally posted as part of femmefest over on LJ

It is still raining. Millicent sits by the open window and her eyes follow the trail of smoke from her cigarette to where it vanishes into the darkness. She takes another drag, inhaling deeply and then coughing. It has been a long time since she last smoked and the cigarette tastes old and a bit strange. She covers her mouth with her hand, trying not to wake the single occupant of the bed. The cold makes her shiver, but she doesn’t care. Can’t seem to do anything but breathe and stare out into the rain.

 

It is still early and she knows that she won’t have to leave for a while yet. The figure in the bed behind her stirs weakly, mumbling something as she turns over to burrow deeper into the pillows. The girl whose name Millicent never bothered to learn doesn’t even notice that she is now alone in the large bed. Like Millicent, she must not be used to actually sleeping in a bed with another person. 

 

A gust of wind pushes the window open further and small raindrops fall onto the windowsill while the pale curtains billow. The bed creaks as the girl moves again. Millicent doesn’t turn around. Whatever happened last night is of no consequence, not to her and not to the girl she took home with her.

 

Her naked bottom is starting to feel uncomfortable on the cold chair and she gets up, still reluctant to look at the bed. The cigarette is negligently extinguished against the outer wall of the house. Cold rainwater covers her arm and hand and she quickly pulls it back inside, closing the window before she turns away. It is time. 

 

Millicent walks into the bathroom to get ready for work. When she passes the mirror, she avoids catching her own reflection. She knows she is not pretty. There is nothing lovely about her and she doesn’t need the reminder.

 

She can still smell the smoke on her fingertips as she splashes cold water onto her face and it makes her gag. A sound like that of a hundred wasps makes her look up at the single light bulb above her. No matter how many times she tries to exchange it or screw it in right, it still keeps making that sound. Even now it is hissing angrily, its unsteady light still cruel in its brightness, revealing her —for all the world to see — nothing but a failure reflected in the mirror.

 

It only takes a few minutes for her to be dressed for work. Her white uniform is beginning to grey with every further washing cycle. Millicent can’t afford to buy a new one and it doesn’t matter anyway; she won’t stay for very long. She never does. Her boss is getting that look in his eyes again. A look that she knows only too well. The one that tells her that her time is running out. Either he will ask her to do something for him, something he wouldn’t ask of any other employee because they are protected, or the constant check-ups by the DMLE make him regret taking her on in the first place.

 

A short pull on the string hanging from the ceiling turns off the light. Millicent grabs her keys and grey coat and leaves the door unlocked. The girl can let herself out when she finally wakes. Millicent won’t see her again.

 

***

 

The rain has turned into drizzle when Millicent emerges from the tube station. All the colours seem muted, as if whoever designed reality has created it to fit her mood, her life even. The dawn is cold and grey and a look up at the sky tells her that the drizzle won’t stop all day. The clouds hang low and Millicent feels like the heavens are pressing down on her, making it hard to breathe. She is jostled around in the crowd as she makes her way over the bridge. Nobody sees more than an obstacle in her sedate pace as they rush past her to work.

 

Like every day, she stops in the middle of the bridge and looks down at the swiftly passing water. Like every day, she is tempted. Something deep inside urges her on, tells her that it would only be fitting. Millicent is invisible to most people, except those who seek to punish her for her past. She is not as pretty as Pansy, who married some rich bloke, or as adept at lying and sneaking as Draco, who somehow wormed his way into the saviour’s bed. Millicent is too big to sneak, too honest to lie to anyone but herself, and men haven’t held any interest for her since Greg, who had mostly been convenient.

 

Why do people linger on bridges and listen to the abyss calling to them, she wonders. She knows why she does it every day, because like everyone who is just about to take that one step forward, a tiny part of her still desperately hopes that a stranger who happens to be her soul mate will show up and make everything okay. Today is not that day, she realises as she stands there, quietly looking down while life rushes past behind her.

 

The cold is seeping into her bones. Millicent straightens up and walks on. Every step is taking her closer to the place she dreads most. St Mungo’s.

 

***

 

Millicent had trained to become a midwife; her steady hands and strong physique for once something that couldn’t impede her. How was she to know that her past and that of her parents would leave her unable to find work? Who wanted their children to be touched by someone with such strong Death Eater ties? The answer, as she found out too quickly, was nobody. It didn’t even matter that she wasn’t marked and had never been considered for that role, not by her parents, not by anyone. Newborns weren’t supposed to be besmirched by the touch of such _Slytherin scum_ as she was.

 

She had had more jobs than she was willing to count, and the cycle was always the same. Millicent would apply for a job and then would get it, because she asked for smaller wages than other applicants. Then the DMLE would show up for their regular check-ups and her employers would begin to question their decision. They would string her on for a week or two, but inevitably they would suggest she go in search of employment elsewhere, trying and failing to hide why she was being let go.

 

“Name?”

 

“Millicent Bulstrode,” she says, her voice devoid of emotion.

 

“Sign here.”

 

Millicent does as she is told, long familiar with this procedure and signs her initials where the clerk indicates, before being handed a wand.

 

The DMLE had taken her wand when she had been under investigation and even though they couldn’t prove her guilt, she is still on their watch list. Her wand had got lost somehow and every form she has filled out requesting to be allowed to have another has been in vain, as she has never heard back from them. Working in wizarding places requires her to have one, so every day before starting work, she has to sign out a wand to use for work and work only. Afterwards when it is returned, the clerk will cast _Priori Incantato_ and make sure she hasn’t used it for anything else.

 

Going through this had been humiliating the first few times, but by now Millicent has grown so numb to all the bullying that she has ceased to care. Her only choice is to live from paycheque to paycheque. Whenever her employers get that look she starts looking for signs in shop windows again, waiting for the inevitable. They never prove her wrong.

 

Millicent has become a name tag person. She never thought she would be. These kinds of jobs are for people who have no education, who are plain stupid or who cannot be bothered to do better. They are also for people who failed and she is one of them. A failure.

 

She is going through the motions, smiling when superiors pass, as if it matters. Her wand flicks left and right, disinfecting and cleaning. Another step forward another push of the trolley, its broken wheel making another fingernails-across-chalkboard-noise. On and on it goes. And then another corridor is done.

 

She blinks away a few tears. People might think they come from humiliation or hopelessness, but Millicent knows that it is only the biting smell of detergent that makes her eyes water. Rightfully she should feel those things, but she feels nothing. It is both easier and more difficult.

 

When she is done, Millicent leaves the wand with the clerk. She watches and knows she should feel resentment as he questions her about the spells she used. Afterwards Millicent collects her things from the locker and changes into her street clothes. She finished early today. She is going to walk through London looking for signs in windows. Millicent knows it is only a question of time until she will have to go looking for work again and when two Aurors pick her up just outside the front door, she realises that that time is closer than she anticipated.

 

They take her to the Ministry and she goes along, if not willingly, at least unresistingly. Her colleagues look at her as if she is a leper, nothing new there either. Maybe she is, she doesn’t know anymore. They put her in a small room with no windows and make her wait a long time. It must be several hours, though Millicent can only guess. They took all her belongings, including her wristwatch and no wand means _Tempus_ either.

 

The door finally opens and the two Aurors that picked her up step in. They ask her questions that she doesn’t and can’t know the answer to. One of them is obviously trying to get a rise out of her by playing bad Auror, but Millicent is already so well-versed in this ever repeating ritual that she knows all the replies she has to give. When they don’t get the answers they were hoping for they leave, empty threats hanging in the air. They leave her in the interrogation room for at least another hour out of spite.

 

When she is finally handed her belongings and allowed to leave half her galleons and Muggle currency are gone. She already knows there is no point in making a fuss about it; the ledger has already been fixed by now. Millicent knows all the steps in this dance and this one is all too familiar.

 

It means she has to walk home because she can’t afford the underground fare back, not for the rest of the week, not if she wants to eat and keep her flat. The rays of sunlight that make it through the thick grey of the clouds are only just strong enough to make the cold even more biting when the wind tears into her thin coat.

 

She wraps her arms around herself as she walks leaning against the wind. People keep bumping into her, but she can’t even conjure up the energy for the well-deserved insults. Eventually the crowd thins and she can make her way more easily. She walks past a news stand, gazing at the headlines as she goes. Muggle newspapers are full of mothers abandoning their children, of people being laid off and of religious fanatics and their extreme conversion techniques. Millicent’s own fate pales in comparison but realising this doesn’t make it any easier to bear.

 

***

 

The heating in her flat is broken again and Millicent only changes out of her coat to pull on two additional woollen jumpers. The tea she makes tastes bitter and off, as if there is something wrong with both the teabag and the water. Considering her current landlord’s attitude to property maintenance, it is probably both. There is a round wet circle of tea where she put down the mug, one of many stains that cover the grey tabletop like pockmarks, each tenant leaving their own trace.

 

She doesn’t wipe the ring away, just watches it dry, still undecided on whether she wants to finish the tea or not. In the end it is her desire for warmth that wins out and she downs the disgusting liquid in one smooth gulp. Millicent won’t stay here long; she never does. Just like with work, her landlords tend to eventually find a reason to kick her out, uprooting her yet again. It has happened to her so often that she can only ever look at the things that define her life as temporary. The only constants are that nothing means anything and that nowhere is truly home.

 

Millicent makes another cup of tea and keeps stirring it, the waves disturbing the oily layer on top of it. This time she only sits there, watching it grow cold. Today is her birthday; it is nothing special and has never been.

 

She doesn’t know how long she sits there staring into nothingness, but when she finally gets up, darkness has fallen outside. She crosses her single room apartment and lies down on her bed without bothering to close the curtains. Her sheets still smell like the girl she took home the night before and Millicent hates it. Hates the reminder of why she deserves it all, because it is wrong, she is.

 

Millicent cannot muster up the strength to change the sheets, so she crawls as far away from the scent as possible and burrows into her own pillow. The jumpers keep her reasonably warm as she just lies there on top of the crumpled sheets waiting for today to turn into tomorrow.

 

She is startled when an owl pecks against her window. Her thick socks muffle the sound of her steps as she crosses the room to open it. The bird is wet with rain, but only gives her flat a disdainful look before taking off into the night again after Millicent has detached the letter from its outstretched leg. She is slightly wary. These days mail never means anything good; she is certainly not naïve enough to believe that someone remembered her birthday.

 

It is a letter from Lavender telling her that they are having a get-together at a pub across town and asking whether she wants to join them. Millicent smoothes the missive down across her thigh, feeling the paper and trying to make up her mind. Whatever it says, she knows to read between the lines and finds the blatant offer of sex that it is. She knows she shouldn’t accept; she pulled only early shifts this month and she really needs the money. But with the day she has had and with how things are going work performance is the least of her worries. Millicent has no means of communication and hopes that Lavender will still be around when she gets there.

 

It takes her over the better part of an hour to get there and when she does the music is so loud that it hurts her ears and she is beginning to regret that she made the trip. It is already late and everyone is tired and Lavender and Millicent don’t dance around each other like they usually do. They both know why they are here and not fifteen minutes after she arrived Millicent is writhing and moaning as Lavender goes down on her. Things are over fairly quickly and Millicent gathers her things and gets dressed while Lavender is already dozing off.

 

On the way back a homeless man is sick on her shoes after she declined to hand him her change. The man shouts at her afterwards, berating her for being stingy. She just moves on, not wanting to cause a stir and looks for a patch of grass to wipe her shoes. It is not like she has any Muggle coins left anyway, even if she could spare them. The walk back is lonely and just a little bit creepy. She speeds up her steps, something telling her she is being followed.

 

When the door of her flat finally closes behind her, she exhales a breath of relief. Giving in to temptation never makes her feel good or euphoric like it is supposed to. She takes off her shoes, trying to keep them as far away as possible and dumps them in the sink, opening the tab and watching the traces of sick as they get washed off. Getting out an old brush is but the work of a moment. She works hard on the shoes for several minutes but already knows that they are beyond hope. Millicent cannot afford to buy a new pair just yet. The smell of vomit is strong in the small room and she knows it will not wash off properly. Maybe if she is lucky, she can accidentally spill some detergent or disinfectant on her shoes at work tomorrow.

 

For the first time that day, she looks up and takes in her own reflection. There are lines across her face, made all the grimmer by the bright cold light coming from the single light bulb. She looks older than she is and not for the first time she fails to understand what those women she takes home see in her. Sometimes she wonders whether everyone feels like this all the time, but even those moments grow fewer.

 

She leaves the shoes outside in the hallway and locks her door for the night. Millicent is exhausted, but she can’t go to bed just yet. She can still smell and feel Lavender against her skin and suddenly it disgusts her. Millicent tears off her clothes as if they burn her skin and rushes under the shower, not caring that the cold water bites her skin, because the boiler doesn’t work this late at night. Shivers wrack her body and even though she wants to, she cannot stay under the spray for long. Once she has towelled herself off, Millicent climbs into bed.

 

***

 

Two weeks later things come to a head at work. Her boss has been watching her closely since the Aurors picked her up again. Everything she does needs justification, every spell she casts has been observed, just to make sure she doesn’t use more magic than necessary. Her boss said something about magical contamination in St Mungo’s corridors, but Millicent knows that he only likes to see her on her knees, scrubbing the floor.

 

During the last few days, she has become acutely aware that the only reason he has employed her is because he likes bullying her. He wants to get a rise out of her, any excuse to humiliate and then fire her, but Millicent never reacts, and just like the Aurors, her boss eventually grows tired of taunting her and sends her back to work.

 

The wand feels strange and is making work more difficult; it seems to be thwarting her at every turn. She is being watched again and she already knows that today is most likely the day she has both been dreading and anticipating. Millicent hasn’t found another job yet, but she managed to save up a little bit of money and if she is frugal, she will be able to stretch what little she has to last her a full month.

 

The bucket of water on her trolley suddenly explodes, covering her and the walls in grey clouds of brackish water. Her skin is burning where the water touched it. Millicent has to blink the tears away; she didn’t close her eyes quickly enough. The acidic detergent stings her eyes and all she wants to do is wipe them with her hands but those are covered, too. Her boss materialises beside her, not to help but to berate her for her awkwardness.

 

“Look at this mess! Because of your clumsiness we have to redo the entire corridor. Give me that wand.”

 

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I’m not allowed to.” She knows she sounds resigned, but Millicent knows too much about protocol to give in now. She shakes her head again as her boss holds out his hand for the wand demandingly.

 

“Very well, Miss Bulstrode. Clear out your locker and drop the wand off with the clerk. There’s no need for you to return tomorrow.”

 

Millicent only nods and turns away. The changing rooms are thankfully empty during this time of day with everyone else still busily working. For the first time she allows herself to take a shower at work, to wash off the stinging remains of the water. When she is done, she dries herself meticulously and changes back into her regular clothes. The cleaner’s uniform is quickly and neatly folded up and then left on the bench. She doesn’t look back as she walks out of the room. 

 

The clerk takes a long time, shuffling paper around and making her wait on purpose. She doesn’t really care. Her time hasn’t been her own to do with as she pleases in long enough for her to be able to remember what it is like.

 

“Hand over the wand.”

 

Millicent complies without a word. The clerk makes her sign a form and then the ritual of humiliation begins anew. Even though she knows all the spells she has cast using this wand, she still feels a sense of unease creep over her as she is made to watch their pale ghosts tumble from the end of the wand. Her skin is itching where the detergent touched it but she stands still, refraining from scratching it through pure force of will.

 

“This all seems to be in order,” the clerk says, sounding somewhat disappointed. “In light of your qualifications and performance, especially taking into account why you are leaving us, I’m sorry to say that we cannot pay you for any services rendered today.” The clerk sounds apologetic, but his smirk tells her otherwise.

 

She should be angry, she knows, but there is nothing, the last bit of resentment had been spent on hating herself for giving in to Lavender again two weeks ago. So instead of putting up a fight she just nods.

 

“All right. Goodbye,” she says, her voice just as devoid of emotions as her heart.

 

Her feet carry her out of the place that once upon a time had been the pillar holding up all her future hopes. The steps are slippery with rain and slush and she stumbles and falls. Millicent’s already aching hands tear on the concrete as she tries to catch her fall and when even the pain shooting through her palms doesn’t cause her to cry, she knows that she has quite literally hit rock bottom.

 

She kneels there on all fours, cold and rain slowly seeping into and soaking her trousers. Her hands bleed; the blood is warm and dark and without a wand she can’t even heal herself. No matter how dead she feels inside, her heart is still beating, as if to mock her. Millicent closes her eyes and takes several calming breaths. She could stay here on the sidewalk and let herself grow ever colder and wetter or get up and carry on, like she has done so many times before.

 

***

 

When she opens her eyes, they fix on a pair of bright yellow Wellingtons. The owner of those boots is a blond woman with a tray in her hand and an oddly lopsided and endearing smile on her face. Millicent gets up carefully, smearing blood and mud into her trousers. She towers over the woman in front of her, feeling suddenly huge and brutish compared to someone so delicate. The woman’s smile never falters as she looks up at Millicent.

 

“Let me just take care of that for you,” she says. Before Millicent can say anything she has drawn her wand and Millicent is shrinking back from her. The woman suddenly looks sad.

 

“It’s all right.” She takes hold of Millicent’s hands; her touch is warm and gentle. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

 

For some reason she cannot explain, Millicent trusts her and doesn’t pull her hands away. The gentlest of cleaning charms washes over her, leaving her skin dry and her clothes and wounds clean. She is smiling again and this time Millicent can feel the unfamiliar sensation of a smile stretching her own features as she looks into the woman’s eyes.

 

“Ouch.” Millicent hisses at the sting when the skin in the palm of her hands knits back together.

 

“Sorry, must have been the Wrackspurts; they are very naughty this time of year.” Her radish earrings swing back and forth wildly as she talks. A memory of a girl she had seen at school begins to stir at the back of Millicent’s mind.

 

“Uhm.” Millicent doesn’t know what to say to that decidedly odd statement. The oddness of it joins the memory, forming a clearer picture. “Your name is Luna.”

 

“Yes.” Luna smiles.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“Me? Oh, this,” Luna says, indicating the floating tray beside her as if that would explain everything. When Millicent doesn’t reply right away, Luna hands her a sandwich from the tray. “You’ve travelled very far, you should carry sustenance.”

 

“Thanks,” Millicent says, thinking it even stranger that Luna knows that she walked to work today. It is still raining and the wrapper is getting soggy in her hands.

 

“You’ve come from very far, I can tell,” she repeats. “I’m not going to ask you where you came from, but where are you headed?”

 

“I don’t understand,” Millicent replies thinking that she hasn’t had this strange and this lengthy a conversation with anyone in a long time.

 

“You’re an old soul, Millicent, and you’re weary. You should rest now and then and appreciate the wonders around you.”

 

Millicent only nods and then indicates the tray beside Luna. “So, what’s this for?”

 

“Oh, I’m doing promotion for The Sandwitch; it’s right around the corner.”

 

“You work there?”

 

“Yes, it’s a lot of fun. I enjoy making people happy. How about you, what are you doing these days?”

 

_I work, I eat, I sleep, I get fired and in the evenings I don’t even have the energy to hate myself or what I’ve let myself become_ , Millicent thinks but out loud she says, “I work at St Mungo’s.” 

 

It is strange how easy the lie falls from her lips. Luna looks at her as if she knows and Millicent feels uncomfortable at being caught out. 

 

“Right, well, I’d better get going.”

 

“I know you’re busy. Have a great day, though,” Luna says smiling.

 

Millicent inclines her head and begins to walk away; when she’s almost out of earshot Luna calls after her.

 

“Oh and Millicent, think about what I told you. Stand still now and then.”

 

The image of Luna in her bright yellow Wellingtons waving her goodbye burns itself into Millicent’s brain. It keeps her company on the long and tedious way across the city and fills her with a warmth that is so alien to her that she has almost forgotten its name. Hope.

 

When she gets home there is an envelope from her landlord stuck to her door with bright red tape. Trouble never seems to end for her. Once inside her flat she throws the envelope onto the shabby table without a second look and then walks over to the window to draw the curtains. She crawls into bed, the day suddenly seeming much colder. She will deal with the contents of the envelope tomorrow. For now she sleeps. Her skin tingles where Luna healed her and she holds her hands, pressing them to her chest, while inside her heart the tiny spark of hope stalwartly continues to glow. Her last thoughts before she drifts off to sleep are about the chance meeting.

 

***

 

The reprieve from fate is over too quickly. It is back to job hunting for Millicent and despite her low expectations, it is not going well. She is standing in front of the flower shop she just applied at for a job, when the awning above her unburdens itself of its cargo of water with one huge cold rush right down her back, drenching her to the skin. This puts an end to her job hunting efforts for today, because looking like a drowned rat makes and leaves an even worse impression than her résumé. Millicent sighs; she liked the flower shop, it smelled nice and she had enjoyed the thought of watching things grow. Apparently people don’t want anyone like her, who is suspected of using dark magic, anywhere near living things, be it children or plants. Maybe she should apply for a job at the morgue.

 

She steps out onto the street and sighs, a line of corpses waiting to be washed and cleaned and prepared stretches in front of her mind’s eye into eternity. Millicent knows it won’t do, but can’t help herself as she considers it as a viable option. She has no pride left.

 

The smell of freshly baked bread makes her stomach rumble and startles her out of her reverie. Her feet have already carried her halfway across the road before she can even think about it. The shop looks fairly new and is decorated too brightly and cheerfully. The sign swinging in the wind above the door reads “The Sandwitch”. Millicent steps inside despite the feeling of uneasiness that is forming knots in her stomach.

 

Inside it is too warm and stuffy, the divine smell of fresh bread the only redeeming quality about a place that is too full of people and far too noisy for her liking. Millicent feels completely out of place and is almost sorry for taking up so much space. Everything in here is so petite, so unlike her. She feels as if everyone is watching her, scowling at her, making her feel uneasy. This was not a good idea. She turns around and walks right out again, not even taking a second look at the queue or the people behind the counter, let alone at what is on the menu.

 

She is already half a block away by the time she recognises the shouts behind her as her name and the odd splashing noises as running footsteps following her. Millicent spins around, shielding her back against the wall, wearily watching the figure approaching through the grey afternoon. Her breath catches in her throat when she beholds the vision headed her way. It is Luna. Her earrings are dangling wildly and her blonde tresses fly around her face as she runs towards Millicent, smiling and waving a wrapped package.

 

“Millicent, wait up. You forgot your sandwich,” Luna says as soon as she is within talking distance. 

 

“I-… but how? I didn’t even order anything.” She sounds oddly out of breath, even though the running has been all on Luna’s part.

 

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t have it ready for you.”

 

“I-…Thank you,” Millicent says.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

The bright wrapper crackles as Luna pushes it into Millicent’s hands. She almost suspects that Luna knows how tight money is right now and how hard she is trying, but Luna couldn’t, could she?

 

If Luna’s hand lingers on hers a little longer than is strictly necessary, Millicent doesn’t notice. She tells herself that even though her skin feels like it has been branded where Luna touched her.

 

Millicent’s gaze flickers up to meet Luna’s and then she looks down again. She feels awkward and confused and like Luna, so small and fragile-looking, has all the power. Feeling like this, so open and bared to the soul, she fears what Luna might find should she look too closely. 

 

“This time don’t throw it away, okay?” Luna says and her thumb is caressing the back of Millicent’s hand. She wants Luna to never stop and at the same time every instinct tells her to tear herself away and run away as fast as she can.

 

“How did you…?”

 

“Just trust me on this. You need to take better care of yourself.”

 

Luna’s hand squeezes hers reassuringly and Millicent wants to cry. It has been longer than she can remember since someone touched her to give comfort and didn’t expect anything in return.

 

“I’ve got to go back to the shop and I got the impression that you had to be on your way. It was lovely seeing you.”

 

“Yes, and you know, thank you.”

 

Luna smiles at her. “Any day!”

 

Millicent gives a small wave and walks away. This time she doesn’t turn around and still she knows that Luna is watching her until she turns a corner, despite what she said earlier.

 

***

 

Millicent is sitting at her shabby table on a chair that has never been comfortable. Her clothes are hanging over the tub and hopefully will be dry in the morning. It is not fully dark out yet and she is waiting to switch on the light until she absolutely has to. 

 

The sandwich sits on the table in front of her, untouched in its wrapper, bright and crisp. She is going to throw it away like other one, she really is. Beside the wrapper sits a small origami cherry blossom. Millicent has no idea how it got there but Luna must have given it to her. Every customer probably gets one she thinks bitterly. And still, she knows she is going to keep it.

 

Millicent doesn’t know what Luna wants from her and it terrifies her more than she is willing to admit. Strong feelings always have been something difficult for Millicent. She doesn’t know whether she is ready to allow herself to feel again, considering how sad and lonely her life is even to outside observers. Somehow she knows that she won’t have a say in the matter.

 

She had found an issue of the _Prophet_ in the bin on her way home and it sat right beside the colourful wrapper. The red Muggle pen that she was going to use to circle the jobs she would apply for lies beside it in a perfect right angle. Millicent can’t move, she just stares into space until it is too dark to see by, the colours of the wrapper burnt into her mind.

 

It is a Friday night and usually she would allow herself to go out and find someone to make her forget. Forget who she was and why she had become so numb and most of all, how wrong everything about her was. Afterwards she would regret it; she had every time so far and still she does it every week, like some twisted ritual of self-flagellation.

 

***

 

When she wakes in the morning there is a crick in her neck. Millicent has fallen asleep at the table, the pages of the newspaper sticking to her cheek. Her gaze falls onto the untouched bag beside her and she throws the sandwich away, but brushes the origami flower into the table’s single drawer, acutely aware of where it lands. The bread probably has gone dry overnight anyway.

 

Her search for work takes her all over London again that day and the next and the next. Two weeks pass and money is tighter than ever. She has a few try-outs but nothing ever comes of them; apparently she isn’t even good enough to fry burgers at a Muggle fast food place. Despite everything, the tiny spark of hope, of things perhaps one day looking up, refuses to be extinguished even in light of all the evidence to the contrary.

 

Quite by chance, Millicent walks along one of the tiny side streets in the wizarding part of London and gets turned around, ending up in a dead end. The smell of rotting garbage and foul meat pervades the air. The narrow street must run up to the rear exit of a restaurant she reasons while looking around herself trying not to breathe in too deeply. On her right is a small shop; at first she thinks it is closed, because the windows are filthy and the inside is cast into darkness, but then she notices motion inside. Someone is walking back and forth stacking what she guesses are books. She almost doesn’t see the small sign in the shop that proclaims the owner is looking for someone to take over deliveries.

 

Millicent decides that she has nothing left to lose and steps into the shop. The jingling of the bells above the door is discordant and makes her grind her teeth; knives on china sound more harmonious than this. Flecks of dust dance in the thin finger of light that falls into the shop from the open door. The entire place smells of mould and damp. The shop’s interior keeps the filthy windows’ promise. Everything seems to be covered in a weird sticky patina of dust and something oily that Millicent shrinks from touching. Another thing she refuses to investigate is what makes her feet stick to the floor and make those squelching noises that make her skin crawl as she tries to find somewhere else to stand.

 

She peers into the gloom around her trying to make out her immediate surroundings and finding her way to whoever owns or runs this shop. All she can see are books, hundreds of them. They cover every flat surface within her vicinity, the sticky floor being no exception. Piles of them stretch from floor to ceiling and Millicent can’t even tell whether there are any shelves between them or whether they are just piled as high as they will go with the greasy film covering everything being the only thing that holds them together.

 

“Hello?” she calls into the gloom, not really expecting a response.

 

“You’re late.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“I said, you’re late! The books won’t deliver themselves, you know?”

 

Millicent is finally able to see who has spoken. It is a small wizened wizard that advances on her through the gloom. He peers at her over the rim of his glasses. Their lenses are thick enough to put Muggle Coke bottle bottoms to shame. To Millicent he looks beyond old and it is a mystery to her how he can be carrying as many books as he is. They are all wrapped in dark brown paper and some of them are tied together with strings to form larger parcels.

 

“The addresses are on the labels, right here, you see?” he says indicating the label on top with a nod of his head, before dumping the entire armful of books into Millicent’s arms.

 

“Chop chop. What are you still doing here? If you hurry, you should be done with this before closing time,” the man says.

 

Millicent nods and carries the books outside, having no idea what just happened. Somehow she ended up as a _quaint little delivery girl_ to a bookshop, which logically speaking is too far out of the way to have any customers at all. She needs a job desperately though, so who would she be to argue.

 

She turns over the first label to check where she is supposed to go. Before she even knows what is going on, she feels a sickening lurch and suddenly appears on an unfamiliar doorstep. It is much colder than it was in the small dank alley, which tells her that she is most likely not in London anymore, the snow on the ground is another indicator. Not quite sure what to do, she looks for a doorbell and when she doesn’t find one, she hesitantly raps her knuckles against the door.

 

The door is opened by a young wizard who looks up at her expectantly.

 

“Uhm… book delivery?” Millicent curses inwardly for making it sound like a question.

 

“Thank you, I’ve been waiting for these.” The man accepts the books with a smile and tips her three sickles before closing the door in her face.

 

Millicent pockets the coins and walks along the path leading through a small neat garden to a wooden gate. There are still several parcels of books left to deliver, but she has no idea how to get to the next address. Come to think of it, she doesn’t even know where the next parcel needs to be delivered to. Millicent reaches for the label again and just like last time, she is deposited on yet another unfamiliar doorstep. Those labels must be Portkeys, she reckons. That at least takes care about getting from place to place, although she has as of yet no idea how she will get back home when she is finished.

 

This time the door is opened by an elderly lady who looks around suspiciously, before grabbing the parcel from Millicent and slamming the door in her face. For once she knows that what just happened has nothing to do with herself, but rather with the fact that the elderly witch apparently ordered something she preferred nobody knew about.

 

The next few deliveries go smoothly and then there is only one more parcel left. The one way Portkey drops her off in front of a yellow wooden door. It is a warm colour that reminds her of summer evenings spent outside, smelling of apples and sun-warmed skin. Millicent shakes her head to clear it, but she could have sworn that the smell of apples was actually real.

 

Before she can knock on the door it opens in front of her, revealing Luna wearing a purple apron and holding a plate with several roasted apples on it. That, at least, explains the wonderful smell.

 

“Are you coming inside?”

 

Millicent doesn’t know what to say, but since this is her last delivery and the sun hasn’t set yet, she supposes she is. Luna smiles and beckons her inside. Millicent can’t do anything but follow her.

 

“Just put them down over there,” Luna says, indicating a small coffee table that looks like its best years are far behind it. Millicent is not sure it will be able to carry the weight of the books.

 

“If you’re sure…”

 

“I’m sure. Trust me.”

 

It is said lightly and Millicent finds she does in fact trust Luna.

 

“Do you want coffee or tea?” Luna calls from what is probably the kitchen.

 

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Millicent replies, thinking that this is all incredibly surreal.

 

Luna’s home is very unlike her own. Many things are strewn around the room, some are clothes, others are obviously keepsakes from travels and her time at school. Photos of people Millicent knows from back then are everywhere. All of this seemingly documents the course of Luna’s life, which, looking at the photos and all the smiling faces, seems to have been an exceedingly happy one. Millicent suddenly has to swallow around the lump in her throat when she compares her own life with the one on display. Her own flat and everything about it is bleak and barren. She should have memories from better times, but they must have fallen by the wayside somehow in her quest for survival. What has she let her life and herself become? 

 

Millicent wants to escape this place, its cheerfulness overwhelming to her. The decision is made in the split second it takes to make sure Luna is still in the kitchen. She runs. Her feet carry her across the lawn in front of Luna’s house and she can hear Luna call after her, but Millicent doesn’t turn around. The moment Millicent steps across the wards, she feels herself spinning into space and reappears in the smelly alley just outside the bookshop.

 

Not knowing what to do, but still feeling obligated to report back, she enters the shop again, the cacophony of the doorbell oddly calming this time around.

 

“You’re back already?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You definitely made good time. What’s your name again?”

 

“Millicent Bulstrode.”

 

“And you work here?”

 

“I guess.”

 

The conversation is becoming weirder by the minute, but Millicent realises that if she plays her cards right she might actually end up with a job.

 

“Very well,” the man says, as he takes the small card that asked for applications out of the window. “My wife must have hired you without telling me.”

 

Millicent nods, only feeling slightly guilty.

 

“We start at eight a.m., first order of the day usually is going through all the owl orders, and then packaging books. After we packaged the books, we’ll tie them together and I’ll add the one way Portkeys to them. Don’t forget to bring your wand.”

 

She tries not to show her distress at those words, but those thick smeared lenses seem to be clear enough for the shopkeeper to see it anyway.

 

“Is that a problem?”

 

Millicent sighs. Her good luck never lasts long enough these days.

 

“I don’t have a wand.”

 

“Oh, all right. Well, I’ll just do the spells myself. My wife always did say I had a special talent for them.” He gazes into the distance before focusing on Millicent again, giving her a look as if he has no idea what she is doing there. “Now, I expect you to be on time and polite to the customers when you deliver the books. Do you think you can do that?”

 

“Yes, Mr…?”

 

“Call me Jeffrey. Jeffrey Rafferty is my name. My parents had quite the affinity to the letter ‘f’, only Merlin knows why. Right, so, anything they tip you, you can keep and you’ll get your paycheque at the end of every week. Oh, and before I forget, lunch break around noon and lasts for an hour. Any questions, Miss Bulstrode?”

 

“No.”

 

“Straight and to the point, I like it. See you tomorrow, then.”

 

Jeffrey turns and walks away into the gloom at the back of the shop and to Millicent it looks as if he is being absorbed right into the books surrounding him.

 

Night has already fallen when she steps outside, but for once the night sky is not hidden by clouds, but rather lit by thousands of stars. The thought that the light that she can see now has been travelling longer than she has been alive, some of it longer than even her parents or grandparents have been, fascinates her. Looking at the universe always puts things into perspective for her. Nothing she did was of any real consequence in the greater scheme of things. Nothing really mattered and still the kindness done to her by someone who was barely a stranger shines through it all and her heart and steps feel somewhat lighter as she makes her way home.

 

***

The scent of lemons and tea is strong in the small space. Millicent has lit a candle and sits on the windowsill in her kitchen, staring upward at the sky, tracing the line of steam rising from her cup with her eyes. When she takes a sip and carefully blows on the hot beverage, the steam obscures some of the stars, fleetingly shrouding them in mist. Below her cars rush by and people pull up the collars of their coats against the unexpected chill as they make their way home. Millicent takes the time to appreciate that while everything around her is still a crowd of faceless people that fact alone doesn’t mean they are not alive. Maybe some of them are as numb as she is, maybe that is what every human being feels like from time to time, but it is not all they are and neither is it everything she is.

 

She can’t remember the last time she simply sat by the window and appreciated being alive. It doesn’t even matter what world she lives in. The only thing that matters is that right now the sky above her and the buzz of life around her are the most beautiful things in the universe.

 

Millicent thinks she can hear someone call her name. Her gaze falls onto a lone figure standing on the street below, cast into darkness by the broken street lamp. She knows who it is without being able to see. Something about the figure tells her that the person standing there, looking up at her, can see directly into her soul and there is only one person Millicent knows that is capable of that.

 

Millicent closes the window without looking at the figure again. She doesn’t know whether she wants her to come up or leave her alone. While part of her craves that person’s presence, Millicent is also terrified of what she might find inside herself if she let them look too deeply.

 

The knock on her door is not unexpected and despite her earlier musings Millicent, her heart racing, rushes over to open the door.

 

“Hi, I know it’s late. Can I come in?”

 

Millicent, unable to find the right words, beckons Luna inside. She is glad there is no harassing letter from her landlord taped to her door. Thank Merlin for small mercies. She hasn’t allowed anyone but the women she sometimes takes home to see her flat. Now she sees it with new eyes, with those of someone used to personal affects and she feels embarrassed by how bleak it must seem to someone like Luna.

 

They stand in front of each other, Millicent at a loss for words and Luna somehow brushing aside all of her defences. The silence between them becomes awkward fairly quickly and Millicent doesn’t know how to break it.

 

“Tea.”

 

“Sorry, what?”

 

“I was having tea earlier, will you make me some?”

 

“Yes of course, have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

 

Millicent escapes into her tiny kitchen. She leans against the thin door. Her heart is beating so loudly that Luna must be able to hear it in the next room. Millicent’s hands are shaking as she prepares the tea and during her first attempt she spills boiling water everywhere. It is embarrassing how long it takes her to finish making tea and how long she makes Luna wait for her. At long last Millicent steps out of the kitchen, two steaming hot mugs in her hands. After she sits one down in front of Luna, she takes the seat opposite her, trying not to stare.

 

“So…” Millicent feels like she has forgotten the entire English language.

 

“How are you, Millicent? Really, I mean,” Luna asks and for once Millicent thinks about the question before answering. Something tells her that Luna doesn’t just ask it to start a conversation, but because she genuinely wants to know.

 

“I-I don’t know.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Luna…”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“Because you need me to be,” Luna says as if it is the most natural thing in the world.

 

“How? I mean, how do you even know things like that?”

 

“I don’t know how and it doesn’t really matter. I know that I do and that’s enough for me.”

 

Millicent wishes Luna would be less cryptic, she needs her to be, but she probably can’t be, or doesn’t know how not to be. They both look at their mugs and Millicent realises that neither of them has taken a single sip, simply using the mugs to occupy their hands. Silence stretches between them again and when Millicent can’t bear it anymore, she asks Luna about the books she received today.

 

“I ordered them via owl. Rafferty is known for having rare books on rare topics available and I needed certain volumes on Nargle migration.”

 

Millicent looks at her, trying to figure out whether she is serious. Luna gazes steadily back and Millicent notices for the first time that Luna blinks less often than other people. She finds it disconcerting. She has to suppress the urge to blink more often as her eyes begin to water in sympathy.

 

“Oh?” she eventually manages to ask.

 

“Yes. I’ve never been to the shop, but I’m told it’s quite…peculiar.” To hear Luna say it makes Millicent smile. “I didn’t know you worked there.”

 

“I didn’t until today.”

 

“How come you’re not working at the hospital anymore?”

 

Millicent swallows and looks away.

 

“I didn’t… I couldn’t…” Saying the words out loud to someone who actually cares is more humiliating than she expects and it is an effort to force them out into the open. “They fired me.”

 

“Well, good for you,” Luna says cheerfully.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“I said good for you.”

 

“Why would you even say something like that?”

 

“Because they never deserved you. Rafferty will make sure you get out and around a lot. It’s far more interesting and rewarding than working cleaning hospital corridors. I wish I could travel more. Maybe one day.” Luna sounds dreamy. How she knows what she does, Millicent doesn’t understand; she never told anyone what she did there. Luna is turning into a greater mystery with every passing moment.

 

“Then why don’t you?”

 

“Oh, you know, my job here’s not done and I’m happy doing what I’m doing right now.”

 

“Making sandwiches?”

 

“Yes, and don’t give me that look. I know very well that you’ve yet to try them.”

 

Millicent can’t help but smile at the derision in Luna’s voice.

 

“I’m assuming you’ll only say that you just know and there is no point in my asking how you know?”

 

“You assume correctly.”

 

Millicent’s smile grows even wider.

 

“What’s so special about those sandwiches, then?”

 

“They were your favourite.”

 

“How would you… never mind.”

 

Luna covers Millicent’s large hand in her own small one and squeezes it once reassuringly before withdrawing as if to say ‘now you’ve got it’. Luna holds Millicent’s gaze until she blushes and smiles into her own mug.

 

“Listen, about the sandwiches-.” - “I’d best get going.” They both speak at the same time.

 

“Yes, right. Sorry for keeping you. It’s getting late.” Millicent feels gutted and she can’t even explain why. “I’ll just… I was just hoping…”

 

“Are you asking me to make you another one?” Luna asks smiling.

 

“Yes, maybe… I don’t know. Do you want to?”

 

Luna slowly gets up and walks to the door, waiting for Millicent to follow her.

 

“I’ll think about it,” she says and it takes a moment for Millicent to realise that Luna hasn’t said ‘no’.

 

Millicent holds the door open for Luna, feeling awkward again, but then Luna leans up cups her face with one hand and kisses her cheek and it suddenly all seems okay.

 

“I’ll see you around.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Luna gives a little wave as she walks away and if Millicent stands by the door, looking after her and waits until she can’t hear her steps down the hallway anymore, she never tells anyone.

 

Later that night, when she goes to bed, something catches her eye. There on her nightstand lies a slender branch. The bark is a dark reddish-brown and it is covered in dozens of tiny pale pink blossoms. Millicent takes the branch and lifts it up to her face, letting the sweet scent wash over her as she inhales. The petals feel soft against her skin when she carefully sets the branch down again.

 

Millicent climbs into bed and turns to blow out the candle. Before she does, she reaches over and picks a single pink blossom, cradling it into her hand like a chick and holds it to her heart.

 

When she wakes in the morning, the blossom is on her pillow beside her face, the petals tickling her nose. Her hand finds her cheek, where Luna kissed her and for the first time in a long time she begins her day with a smile.

 

***

 

The wind is still cold, but when it brushes past Millicent she realises that it is missing the sting of winter. Her coat billows behind her, as she rushes to work, actually looking forward to what adventures this day might hold in store. The blossom from the night before is carefully tucked away into her coat pocket and the knowledge of that alone lightens her steps considerably.

 

When Millicent turns a corner only two blocks away from Rafferty’s bookshop, someone steps in her way and she almost collides with them.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t see you…”

 

“Good Morning, Miss. I’m doing promotion for ‘The Sandwitch’, your favourite sandwich shop. Could I interest you in a sample?” 

 

“Good morning to you, too. And I’d love to, thank you.”

 

Luna grins at her, holding up a bag with “The Sandwitch” printed on it in bold letters and a disposable cup of something steaming hot. Millicent secretly hopes that it is coffee and is not disappointed when the bitter dark flavour wafts over to her as she accepts it.

 

“It smells wonderful. What is it?”

 

“You’ll see soon enough, now hurry. You’re already late.”

 

“Shit, you’re right. Thank you again,” Millicent shouts as she legs it across the street and into the cul-de-sac.

 

The coffee is too hot to do more than inhale its scent and it takes until lunch time before Millicent can try it and the sandwich. Despite what the outside might suggest, working at Rafferty’s keeps Millicent very busy, because there is so much to do. 

 

Jeffrey scolds Millicent when she misses noon and shoos her into the magically enlarged backyard for her lunch break. The air is warm and filled with the scent of cherry blossoms. The backyard itself is formed like a perfect circle and surrounded by high walls. Spells must be in place to keep the entire space in stasis of early spring with the warmth of early summer. Birdsong carries along the slight breeze that makes the leaves of the huge cherry tree rustle that builds the centre of this garden. An old wooden bench circles its thick trunk. The wood is warm beneath her hands when Millicent sits down.

 

Everything about the place is calming. Luna’s words from several weeks ago come back to her and she takes the time to really look and what she sees makes her smile. Inside the bag she finds another sandwich and a tiny folded paper butterfly. Millicent puts it on the palm of her hand and takes a closer look. What looked like a circular pattern on the paper at first turns out to be words.

 

_You look nice today_ , is what they say. They make Millicent feel warm inside as she realises that Luna also made this just for her.

 

The coffee is still warm when she finally tries it. Luna must have charmed the cup and that kind of foresight offered so carelessly to someone like her makes something inside her squirm. Millicent chooses not to look too closely at what she feels, but she already knows that it is too late to go back.

 

***

 

After that first day, Luna is suddenly everywhere and after the first week they stop pretending that Luna is doing promotion when she so obviously waits for Millicent every single time. The sandwich bags come with little folded origami messages and Millicent keeps them all. When work allows, which isn’t very often, they even meet for lunch, and the feather-light casual touches Luna bestows upon her while she talks excitedly about something drives her to distraction.

 

It is hard to stay uninvolved, to not allow herself to fall for Luna. She can’t mean those touches the way Millicent understands them. Luna would surely be disgusted as much as Millicent by that side of her and she can’t risk losing Luna, because Luna has become a friend. Has become someone who truly cares about her and Millicent hasn’t had a true friend in so long that she almost forgot what it feels like.

 

On one of those days, when Luna is supposed to meet her for lunch, the Aurors pick Millicent up right outside the shop. Millicent is already resigned to spending the afternoon locked in a dark room again and probably getting fired following that, but what actually breaks her heart is the look on Luna’s face as she sees her getting escorted away by the men in the red uniforms. Millicent reaches out for her, but is already spinning away into space as she is Apparated side-along.

 

This time the interrogation gets to her and more than once she actually shouts at the Aurors in response to their questions. They look like they have won some kind of battle when she loses control and the matching smug expressions on their faces after they finally get a rise out of her make her wish she had never opened her mouth.

 

She tries to calm herself by mentally going through all the messages Luna has sent her. Millicent wonders what Luna must think of her now, and forces the thought aside. No time to look too close at that for now. 

 

The missives have collected in the drawer that still contains the first origami. Sometimes when she feels lonely she takes them out and spreads them over the table’s surface, their beauty covering its shabbiness. Oddly enough, one of the stranger ones springs to the forefront of her mind, an origami folded to look like an Old World Swallowtail. It read: “Butterflies can taste with their feet. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to run across a meadow bare feet and taste the grass.” Thoughts like that are essentially Luna and Luna is her anchor, her navigation star, and with Luna in mind she will always be able to find her way home.

 

Eventually they have to let her go, like every other time they picked her up on drummed up charges, but this time she is reeling with the humiliation and anger that course through her like live fire. Rafferty will probably fire her for missing the rest of her work day. And still, the worst of all, of this black pit of despair that opens up in front of her at the thought of losing the small part of her life that she managed to wrestle back from fate, is that she actually cares.

 

Millicent takes the tube back to work, just for the hell of it, because if everything else on this day is going to go to shit, she might as well be comfortable while it happens. When she gets back to the shop there is no sign of Luna or Jeffrey. Millicent begins to wonder whether she made the trip in vain and whether she should even bother returning the next day. Jeffrey doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would take slacking off lightly.

 

The shop welcomes her with its weird smell and sticky floor and she sighs wistfully as she begins to pack her things.

 

“Who’s there?” Jeffrey calls from somewhere back in the stacks.

 

Millicent tries to sneak out to avoid the confrontation, she really does, but Jeffrey is surprisingly quick.

 

“There you are.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Now, Millicent, while I understand that we all want to spend time with our friends, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do it on company time.”

 

“Not my friends,” she mumbles, correcting him, despite knowing how useless it was.

 

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

 

“So, to get back to what I was saying, tell them to come and see you after work next time, okay? Also a word of advice, you really shouldn’t run out on other people, especially if you’ve asked them to meet you. Your friend, the one you keep having lunch with, seemed really upset when you didn’t even say goodbye to her.”

 

“Luna?” Millicent can feel her throat close up. Luna had come looking for her. Maybe, just maybe…

 

“Yes, that’s what she said, something about the moon. I think she’ll come by your flat later.”

 

Upon hearing those words, Millicent wants nothing more than to rush home, to make sure she doesn’t miss Luna, in case there is still the tiniest chance.

 

“Merlin’s beard, stop fidgeting and go already. I’ll see you tomorrow and you’ll have to do twice the workload to make up for the time you skipped off today,” Jeffrey says, shaking his head, because Millicent is already halfway out of the door by then.

 

***

 

Millicent takes the tube for the second time that day and it can’t rush along fast enough. People shove and jostle her as she climbs up the stairs as fast as she can go, afraid she will miss Luna and everything will go to shit.

 

Outside her building it is dark; the street light still hasn’t been fixed. Millicent makes her way up the steps, listening intently for any sound, but all she can hear are her fighting neighbours and the man upstairs who is practising the violin, only it doesn’t sound like a violin but rather like he is torturing cats in there.

 

There is no sign of Luna or anyone else having been there outside her flat. Millicent doesn’t know what to make of this. Does this mean that Luna was here, but decided not to leave a note because she was too upset? Does it mean she is not coming at all? 

 

She begins to pace in agitation and when that doesn’t help – as if it ever does – she goes to make a cup of tea, to do anything to keep her hands busy. Millicent hasn’t even taken off her coat and her hair is a right mess from how often her hands have passed through it. When the knock on her door finally comes, Millicent is startled and drops her mug. It lies forgotten on the floor, spreading tea everywhere, while Millicent opens the door.

 

It is Luna.

 

They stand there, staring at it each other, neither of them saying a word. To Millicent it feels as if time has stopped, as if everything, every noise and every image, has been magnified in intensity. Everything about Luna seems suddenly brighter, sharper, and it steals Millicent’s breath away. Millicent wants to rush forward and embrace her. Wants to beg Luna to forgive her and never leave her. Millicent finds herself staring at Luna’s lips, for the hundredth time wondering what they would taste like.

 

“Aren’t you going to ask me to come inside?” Luna eventually says. Millicent struggles back to reality, brought out of her stasis by Luna’s words. The smile on her face could almost be described as fond when Millicent steps aside and holds out her arm to take Luna’s coat.

 

“What about you?” Luna asks after Millicent has closed the door and only then does Millicent realise that she is still wearing hers. Luna takes hold of Millicent’s lapels and tugs her closer until they are face to face and breathing the same air.

 

“Would you rather go for a walk?”

 

“No, I don’t… I don’t know,” Millicent stutters. Luna’s sudden proximity is incredibly confusing.

 

“Come on then, let’s have a seat. I think we should talk.”

 

Luna gently guides Millicent to her bed and they sit on the edge of it, not touching but not sitting too far apart should they want to either. Millicent’s heart is racing and she doesn’t know where to look.

 

“So, what happened today?”

 

“I’m so sorry, it was my fault.” Millicent looks at her hands as she speaks; they are lying in her lap, interlocked like claws.

 

“What makes you say that?” Luna’s voice is as gentle as her hand on Millicent’s shoulder.

 

“I should have told you that that’s what happens.” Millicent knows she sounds dejected and wonders whether Luna is picking up on it. At least she is not leaving, not yet anyway.

 

“What did you do for them to pick you up?”

 

“Nothing, they just… they check up on me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because of the things I did, during the war…” Millicent still can’t meet Luna’s gaze.

 

“But… but I thought you didn’t do anything. I mean you said…” Luna’s hand disappears from her shoulder and she sounds betrayed. Finally Millicent looks up. It is difficult to meet her gaze and look at the emotions reflected there.

 

“I was in Slytherin, Luna. In most people’s eyes that’s enough. My parents’ connections are enough for people to make assumptions about me, for bullying me, for avoiding me. I’m bad, bad blood and that’s why.” Millicent doesn’t want to shout, least of all at Luna, because she is the last person who deserves this, but it is like the flood gates have been opened and she can’t hold back any longer. All the self-hatred just pours out and she watches herself in horror as she pushes Luna away, before Luna can reject her.

 

“Don’t you see? That’s why I can’t get work, why everyone spits on me and takes such pleasure in humiliating me. I come from bad blood. I must deserve everything that happens to me. Because they are right and everything about me is wrong. That’s all they see, all they make me believe. I deserve it, everything. Why can’t you see it, Luna? Why do you have to be so fucking _kind_ all the time? Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Millicent’s voice breaks and she buries her face in her hands.

 

She wishes Luna would just go. Wishes Luna had never entered her life and reached into her heart. The mind-numbing despair that is part of Millicent’s every day life is threatening to crush her. Letting Luna in feels like a mistake, because despite all the joy and love she has felt in her presence, feeling this vulnerable and worthless at the same time is more than she can bear.

 

Millicent’s hands are wet with tears. She doesn’t even remember the last time she cried. All she is aware of is the pain inside her, tearing her apart and Luna, who has moved closer to her and draped herself over Millicent’s back, holding her through it and anchoring her.

 

Luna’s warmth and her soothing words, when they finally break through the stupor, are what guide her back to reality. Millicent feels small and weak and she doesn’t resist when Luna pulls her onto the bed to lie down and pulls the blanket over her. She closes her eyes as she burrows into the pillows. It is too early to sleep and Luna will leave soon. There is no reason for her to stay after what Millicent said, after all, now she knows why Millicent is always alone: because nobody can bear to be around her.

 

Luna’s hands are warm and sure as she continues to draw soothing circles on Millicent’s back and arms and eventually Millicent drifts off into sleep. She wakes only once in the night to feel a warm body pressed against her from behind. It feels both welcome and strange. Millicent has never really just lain in a bed and slept with anyone. It is a strange sensation, making her feel cherished and protected and when she drifts off once more there is a smile on her face.

 

***

 

There is none of the awkwardness she might have expected when she wakes in the morning. Apparently Luna can’t stop their morning ritual and there is already a steaming hot mug of tea on Millicent’s bedside table when she opens her eyes and beside it, a small origami flower. Luna is clattering around in the kitchen and for once Millicent really doesn’t mind.

 

Before she has time to read the note, Luna comes into the room wearing Millicent’s bathrobe, which is much too large for her. It looks utterly ridiculous on her and Millicent has to bite the palm of her hand to keep her laughter down. The ugliness of the bathrobe only works to show Luna’s peculiar kind of beauty. She is bathed in warm morning sunlight which makes her blonde tresses cascading down her back look like a waterfall made of gold. Millicent longs to touch them, feel their softness between her fingers, but she knows she is not allowed.

 

“Drink up,” Luna says as she sits down on the bed beside Millicent. She passes the steaming mug from the nightstand over to Millicent and smiles. “I’ve decided to Apparate you to work today so we’ve got plenty of time to get ready. I took a shower, I hope that’s okay.”

 

“Yeah,” Millicent replies less than eloquently, wondering what the hell just happened to make her sound so breathless.

 

Luna changes position on the bed, lying on her belly beside Millicent, looking up at her, just as if this were a pyjama party. Childhood sleep-overs are the last thing on Millicent’s mind when the bathrobe slides off Luna’s shoulder, revealing her slender neck and a sharp collarbone. Millicent wants to run her fingers along it, feel its softness contrasting with the hard bone beneath her fingers. Luna is looking at her as if she can read her mind. Her warm gaze is unwaveringly on Millicent’s and she knows she has been caught staring, but she can’t seem to stop. She realises that Luna is close enough to kiss, they only need to close the short distance between them and then…

 

And there it is. Luna’s gaze flickers down to Millicent’s lips, or maybe Millicent only imagined it. Luna wants to kiss her and as wrong as this is, there is nothing Millicent wants more in this moment than that. Millicent knows she is trembling, her mug of tea in danger of tipping over and she couldn’t care less. They both move at the same time, their noses bump into each other as they get close. 

 

A series of loud knocks against the door to her flat makes them jump apart.

 

“Ow, fuck!” Millicent hisses as hot tea spills all over her lap and hands drenching her and the bedding in scorching hot liquid.

 

“Shit.” This is the first time Millicent has heard that kind of language out of Luna’s mouth. 

 

The knocking grows ever louder and both of them ignore it. Luna reaches behind her head, untangling her wand which had, until then, held together part of her hair. The touch of Luna’s hands is soft as she heals Millicent’s skin and then dries the sheets. By the time either of them looks up, there are small showers of dust falling from the doorframe in the hallway.

 

“I’ll just take care of that,” Luna says, getting up reluctantly.

 

Millicent immediately misses the warmth of Luna’s proximity. She runs her hands along her lips where only moments ago she thought she had imagined the feather light touch of Luna’s lips on hers. She can hear an argument from the door, mostly her landlord’s voice interrupted now and then by Luna’s clear, calm voice. Eventually the door closes again and Millicent muses on how different Luna is when she has to be serious.

 

“He’ll be back.”

 

“Unfortunately.”

 

“Is this going to get you in trouble?”

 

“What?”

 

“Me, staying overnight.”

 

“I honestly don’t know, but with my landlord buying the wrong kind of toilet paper gets me in trouble. I doubt he needs an excuse to make my life hell.”

 

Millicent quickly looks down, she hadn’t intended to reveal that much, but somehow Luna draws truths out of her like no one else. If Millicent were Muggle, she would say there was something of the witch about Luna, but since she is a witch she knows the right term; there is something of a seer about Luna.

 

“We’d better get going.” Again, Luna functions as the voice of reason.

 

It doesn’t take them long to get dressed. The playful mood has all but dissipated and even the clouds have complied and there is nothing left of the golden light of morning. Neither of them knows quite what to say after Luna has Apparated them into wizarding London and they have to part ways. They don’t meet for lunch that day and when Millicent gets home late that night, after making up the hours missed the day before, she feels dejected and lonely again.

 

When she gets ready for bed she finds a butterfly slide lying beneath the bathroom mirror. It is a beautiful piece and so vibrant in colour that it seems almost alive. Millicent gently runs her hands across the small gems making up the patterns of its wings and wishes she could run them through Luna’s hair. Luna must have left it this morning when she was getting ready. Millicent is both relieved and sad, because while the slide presents her with an excuse to see Luna again, she is not quite sure she will be able to give it up.

 

***

 

Millicent needn’t have worried. Luna never asks for it back. She does ask Millicent to accompany her on a trip to the zoo, though. The weather is terrible that day, but who could say no to Luna when she stands outside of Millicent’s flat and waves up at her, wearing her bright yellow Wellingtons and seeking shelter underneath a rainbow coloured umbrella. The picture she makes is so endearing that Millicent finds herself shrugging into her coat halfway down the stairs before she can make a conscious decision.

 

Luna hands Millicent the umbrella and then links her arm with Millicent’s, the umbrella the only thing that both divides and unites them. They keep bumping into each other occasionally as they walk, neither of them quite knowing where to look when it happens. They wander through the rainy streets as if they have nowhere to be. Millicent feels like she should say something, but Luna seems so content beside her that she decides aimlessness isn’t so bad when one is aimless together. 

 

“I like the sound of water,” Luna says and for once Millicent thinks she knows exactly what she means. Water doesn’t just have one sound, but the ones they hear right now take away the gloom that rain usually brings. Every step they take makes a small splashing noise as they walk, while the pitter patter of raindrops on their umbrella cocoons them in a world of their own.

 

“Me, too,” _because I share it with you_ , is what she wants to say, but something is holding her back.

 

“I sometimes imagine the different splashes to be made of up of different colours, like the ones on the umbrella, they’d be orange and pink and some of them maybe even green or blue, depending on where they hit and how loud they are. The ones we make when we walk would be yellow I think, but the warm kind of yellow from a summer afternoon.”

 

Luna sounds so sincere that Millicent doesn’t have the heart to tell her that she can’t imagine it and not disagreeing feels like the right thing to do. Instead of speaking, she places her hand on top of Luna’s which is still resting lightly on her arm and squeezes it gently. Millicent can feel her fingers tremble against Luna’s. Even though her eyes never waver from the path, she doesn’t know where she is going. When Luna squeezes her arm in return, Millicent’s heart finally stops trying to fight its way out of her chest.

 

They walk for another five minutes or maybe five hours, Millicent doesn’t know. She is so focussed on the feeling of Luna’s hand on her arm that she can barely think straight. Even the constant monologue of self-abuse on finding another woman attractive simply falls silent in the face of this. Eventually Luna Apparates them to the zoo, the two of them look at a lot of animals, but the most memorable ones are the ones that Luna picks.

 

Her wand grants them access to the magically enhanced side of the zoo. The animals live in much larger enclosures and many of them are magical in nature. Both Luna and Millicent have seen enough death in their time to spot the Thestrals right away but that is not where Luna is headed. To her this day seems to be about reaffirming life and not about remembering the loss of it.

 

The first area they actually visit in here is the aviary. It is a huge bird house that looks like nothing but a giant bird cage from the outside. Inside it is magically enlarged and it is warm. Several bridges crisscross over the entire area and the visitors are guided through forests and past waterfalls while the air is filled with the constant chatter of birds. Millicent loves it, every minute of being so close to nature for the first time in so long. She never knew she missed it as much as she does. When she says so, Luna hugs her impulsively and Millicent can’t seem to stop smiling, when Luna doesn’t let go of her hand.

 

From the aviary that is cast in the constant warmth of artificial sunlight they walk to the butterfly house which, just like the aviary, doesn’t look like much from the outside. Luna intertwines her fingers with Millicent’s fingers as they walk and Millicent can feel her skin hum at the touch. Every sound, every bit of colour, seems magnified. The crunching of the gravel beneath their steps, the flowers by the wayside and the creaking of the wooden door that leads to the airlock.

 

The butterfly house seems almost as large as the aviary but there are no colours here beyond the lush green of the plants that cover every surface and shelter the walkway. Millicent turns back to look at the door and the curtains that hang before it, to make sure nothing escapes. Shouldn’t there be butterflies here?

 

“I don’t understand…” Millicent says while turning back to Luna who had let go of her hand and gone ahead, strolling along the walkway.

 

Suddenly the air around them is full of butterflies in all shapes and sizes. They spiral and dance around Luna and Millicent like a wind made up of colour. Millicent can’t seem to move, her gaze is fixed on Luna who is laughing in delight as their feather-light wings brush against her cheeks. They swirl and dance around her as she stands there bathed in warm golden light from the artificial sun hovering high up under the ceiling. She looks like a vision.

 

In the end only a single pale butterfly with subtle fluorescent blue streaks and circles along its wings remains. It sits on the back of Luna’s left hand and slowly fans its fragile wings. Luna is staring at it as if mesmerised. Millicent finally blinks but the vision of beauty she has recognised in Luna cannot be unseen. In that fleeting moment, Luna somehow becomes the centre of Millicent’s universe and there is nothing she can do about it.

 

Millicent approaches carefully hoping to get a closer look at the butterfly, to think of anything but the momentous discovery she just made. It is too scary, too close to what she fears, for her to look at it properly, so instead she looks at something less terrifying. The butterfly is still flapping its wings lazily and lets the two women examine it. Millicent is wondering what Luna’s skin tastes like, when she sees the insect slowly brushing one of its legs along it.

 

“It’s beautiful,” Millicent whispers in awe, not knowing whether she means the butterfly or the woman in front of her.

 

“Isn’t it just? I believe this one is called Aurora Morpho, after the Roman goddess of dawn.”

 

Their eyes meet and neither of them notices when the butterfly flies away, joining the others to feed on fresh nectar. Millicent’s hand is on Luna’s arm and she is painfully aware of how close they stand. She can see Luna’s pulse flicker and jump along the smooth expanse of her neck. Millicent is focussed entirely on Luna, trying to keep herself from reaching out and running her rough hands along the tender exposed skin. She swallows audibly unable to make a decision, but also unable to step away. The outer door to the butterfly house flies open and a group of screaming children and their harassed looking parents enter the butterfly house.

 

“Why are there no butterflies, Mum?” – “They’ll sting me, Dad, I’m sure!” – “Butterflies are boring; I want to go see the tigers again.”

 

On and on it goes and Millicent is starting to ponder options to this scenario that will make her deserve being picked up by the Aurors. As if sensing her discomfort, Luna takes Millicent’s hand and leans up to whisper into her ear. Her breath is warm and Millicent can hear the smile in her voice and something else that scares her.

 

“I’ve got something else I’d like to show you.”

 

Millicent only nods and allows Luna to drag her away while the children take apart the foliage.

 

***

 

Millicent wakes to the sound of footsteps that she resents. She knew she was about to make a mistake the moment she stepped out of the house. Before she can turn, a warm body climbs into her bed and presses itself against her. The woman presses her full breasts against Millicent’s back and cards her fingers through Millicent’s hair.

 

“Awake yet, lover?” Lavender huskily whispers into her ear.

 

Millicent wishes she wasn’t here. Wishes she hadn’t brought Lavender home with her. It takes a conscious effort to not cringe away from her touch. Millicent scoots to the corner of the bed and grabs the package of cigarettes and the lighter that she hasn’t looked at since the last time she took someone home with her.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing, just needed a fag,” Millicent says, speaking past the fag that’s already between her lips. Lavender snorts derisively at that statement. Millicent disentangles herself completely and walks over to the window. The latch screeches as she unhooks it and opens the window wide; the cold air hitting her skin causes goose bumps to appear. She can feel Lavender’s gaze on her skin but doesn’t turn around.

 

***

 

Luna had taken her to the aquarium, which had been mostly deserted. Apparently people these days thought that fish were boring. The light of the tank shining in from around them was the only illumination and created a somewhat eerie atmosphere. The room was circular, with a glass ceiling and only a small doorway that allowed visitors to pass through a tunnel of water to reach the centre of the tank. In the middle there was a round seat that had been just large enough for both of them to lie down on their backs. They had lain on opposite ends with their heads beside each other, making it easy to point out particularly interesting fish. The position was oddly intimate and Millicent had had trouble hiding how it affected her. It had felt like they were the only two conscious beings in a cosmos of water, with the fish orbiting them, like the planets orbit the sun.

 

Luna had looked up at the jellyfish that were descending above them, while Millicent had gazed at her face.

 

“Aren’t they beautiful?”

 

“Yes.”

 

They really were, Millicent thought. One never appreciated the beauty of what was all around, too busy and too wrapped up in everything to notice. She was glad Luna had seen her and had shown her how to see the world in its proper light again.

 

“Can you hear them sing?”

 

Millicent couldn’t, but she had said yes anyway. Sometimes it wasn’t about what you saw or what was quantifiable, sometimes it was about an idea, possibilities people were taught couldn’t possibly exist. At some point you stopped dreaming, stopped reaching for the stars, because you knew they were just gigantic gaseous spheres at the other end of the universe. But that was wrong; it didn’t matter whether the jellyfish could sing, or whether she could hear them, it mattered that she could imagine it and recognise its inherent beauty.

 

She had had to look away, the epiphany from the butterfly house still too fresh in her mind. Luna, so fragile, so beautiful, so utterly out of her league, would never want someone like her. Someone who wasn’t beautiful or fragile. Millicent was too tall, too heavily built to be considered beautiful. She was the opposite in every way of the gentle person she had fallen in love with. Because that much had become startlingly clear. She was utterly irrevocably in love with Luna Lovegood and there was nothing she could do about it.

 

***

 

Lavender is getting restless, rustling the sheets and probably pouting or just making an annoyed face. Usually Millicent doesn’t make her wait, but this time she doesn’t want to get back into bed. Millicent wants to take a shower to wash away the evidence of her shame. Wants to atone for what she did. It is Luna that she wants and whom she cannot have, and no matter how wrong that is in itself, seeking out Lavender wasn’t the solution to her problems.

 

Without turning around she says, “You’d better go.”

 

“Excuse me?” Lavender says coldly.

 

Millicent doesn’t want to turn around, doesn’t want the confrontation, but when she realises that the bridge is burnt, has been for a long time inside her mind already, she slowly turns to face Lavender.

 

“I know you’re not deaf. I asked you to leave.”

 

Lavender’s usually beautiful face is twisted into an ugly mask of rage.

 

“You fucking cunt!” she yells loud enough for Millicent’s neighbours to hear through her paper-thin walls. She’s suddenly right up in Millicent’s face and before she knows what is happening, Lavender has slapped her, her nails leaving trails of white hot pain across the sensitive skin.

 

“I should have known better than to take up with Death Eater scum like you.” Lavender spits on the floor at Millicent’s feet and somehow that shocks Millicent even more than her words. While Millicent is used to hating herself, she had never known that Lavender’s true feelings were like her own. There is nothing she can say.

 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You should know your fucking place, bitch! It’s not like it was worth having your clumsy fat hands on me, anyway. I’ve had far better.”

 

Lavender shrugs into her blouse and pulls on her skirt, not bothering with her knickers and bra, cramming them into her purse. She makes her way to the door where she grabs her shoes and turns around one last time.

 

“Don’t bother coming back to the club; the likes of you are not welcome there.” With those words, Lavender slams the door. 

 

Millicent is still standing right by the open window, only now noticing that she is shivering with cold. If only she had known. She feels even more filthy than she had before, like she has sold herself, sold her soul. Millicent has been nothing but a cheap fuck to Lavender. Her and her friends had probably laughed about Millicent behind her back, about the poor little closeted Death Eater, so desperate for a little human touch. 

 

She slowly sinks to the floor, still naked, feeling defiled and vulnerable. Her eyes fall on the almond branch on her bedside table. The blossoms should have long since died and fallen off, but they are still as fresh as they were on the first day. _Luna_. She thinks. Luna isn’t like that, isn’t like them at all. She had seen something inside Millicent, something worthy that only she could see. 

 

Luna had seen beauty where everyone else only saw bad blood and failure and somehow Millicent had managed to jeopardise all that. If only she could have her back, if only she hadn’t fallen in love with her. Millicent needs a friend now more than ever, someone to talk to about all this, but the only person she can think of is part of the problem.

 

Eventually Millicent drags herself back to bed. Ignoring that her sheets still smell of Lavender, she gives in to exhaustion and drifts into a fitful sleep.

 

***

 

Warm sunlight tickles her nose and wakes her. She blinks into the brightness and mumbling turns to the other side, burying her face in the pillows again. It is a Sunday and she doesn’t have to go to work. Today promises to be a beautiful day and Millicent can hardly stand it. She wishes she could just stay in bed forever, getting absorbed by the sheets and never having to face the world again. The thought itself has merit.

 

Reality intrudes on her daydream only too soon when someone speaks to her.

 

“Are you going to stay in bed all day?”

 

It sounds familiar and hope begins to blossom inside her chest. But it cannot possibly be. She can’t be here, she has no reason to.

 

“I hope it’s okay that I let myself in, the door was unlocked.”

 

Millicent doesn’t speak, maybe if she doesn’t move for a little while longer she can stay in this beautiful dream, where the woman she loves is with her. The bed dips as someone sits down beside her.

 

“Hey, are you okay?” someone asks softly and then strokes Millicent’s cheek.

 

Millicent can’t bear it any longer, she has to see, has to make sure that this is not just a dream that will vanish in the light of day like a wisp of smoke.

 

Luna is sitting on the edge of her bed, smiling down at her. The golden sunlight that had woken Millicent only moments earlier is lighting up Luna’s hair, surrounding her with an aura of light, making her seem like some divine otherworldly creature.

 

“Mornin’,” she whispers, her voice sounding heavy with sleep.

 

Luna’s smile only brightens and she continues caressing Millicent’s skin.

 

“Did you watch me sleep?”

 

“Yes. I didn’t know you slept in the nude.”

 

_Fuck!_ Millicent thinks, remembering that yes, she is in fact stark naked under the sheets, which are… definitely not on the bed anymore. She sits up, frantically trying to locate them so she can hide her nudity. In all this Luna’s hand ends up on her naked thigh and Millicent can feel the heat of her touch burning into her skin.

 

Millicent feels so uncomfortable she can hardly bear it. The effect Luna’s touch has on her brings back all her worries from last night and she scrambles off the bed, trying to get away from Luna and what she means.

 

“Loo,” she mumbles before fleeing into her tiny bathroom.

 

The face that looks back at her in the mirrored is haggard and four long red streaks from where Lavender hit her decorate her left cheek. Millicent sits down on the rim of the tub, gripping it to steady herself to somehow anchor her and force the fear back down. 

 

“Oh God, oh Merlin, oh God,” she chants. She doesn’t know what to do, or how to face Luna after what she did last night. Her skin probably still smells of Lavender and that thought alone makes her shudder. It seems wrong somehow to think of Lavender with Luna in the next room. Maybe if Millicent stays in here long enough Luna will get the hint and leave. But then Millicent doesn’t really want Luna to leave.

 

“I’ll just go make some tea, all right? Take your time,” Luna calls from the other side of the door, taking choice out of the equation.

 

Millicent gets up shakily. She leans onto the sink and looks at herself again, trying to find something, trying to see the spark that makes Luna believe in her, to give her the confidence to get through this. She turns on the tab and waits until enough cold water has accumulated in her cupped hands before splashing her face with it. Millicent hisses when the water hits the sore skin on cheek, but keeps going, brushing the water along her arms and naked breasts trying to rid herself of any evidence Lavender might have left on her.

 

When she is finished, she puts on the clothes she wore last night before she went out. There is nothing else to wear inside the bathroom. It doesn’t matter. Millicent still feels exposed when she steps out.

 

She sits in her armchair by the window and waits. When Luna walks back in, bearing two steaming mugs, all the guilt and worry from the night before come crashing down around Millicent and she can’t look at her.

 

“What’s wrong?” Luna asks. The clunk of china meeting wood tells Millicent that she has put down the mugs.

 

“Nothing.” Millicent takes a shuddering breath, covering her eyes, trying to hide how all of this affects her. “I- I just… I need you to leave, please.”

 

But Luna doesn’t leave. Like always she seems to understand, to perceive the words Millicent actually wants to say. _Don’t leave, don’t leave me. And oh please, Merlin, please love me back._

 

Her hand is on Millicent’s chin, pulling it up. Millicent’s own hand falls away, but she can’t meet Luna’s eyes. Luna is crouching before her, looking at the injured side of her face and gently runs her fingers along the skin.

 

“Let me just…” she whispers and then crowds Millicent into the chair.

 

Millicent doesn’t know what’s happening, but suddenly she finds herself with a lap full of Luna, who is cupping her face. Luna leans in and places dozens of kisses along each line of broken skin. The touch of Luna’s lips feels like the brush of butterfly wings against her cheeks. Millicent’s eyes flutter closed in pleasure. She can’t quite believe this is really happening, but when Luna’s lips finally find hers, all doubt leaves her.

 

Luna’s lips feel soft on hers. They are unsure at first, only lightly kissing as if waiting for permission. Millicent can’t suppress the whimper that escapes her. This seems to have been all Luna has been waiting for because her kisses turn from tender to devouring in seconds and Millicent can’t do anything but let it happen. This beautiful peculiar thing that is burning her up from the inside.

 

At the first touch of Luna’s tongue on hers, Millicent can’t hold still anymore. Her hands reach out for Luna to run up and down her sides before pulling her closer. Luna has wrapped her arms around Millicent’s neck and her breath leaves her mouth in gasping puffs against Millicent’s lips.

 

Eventually they have to stop to catch their breaths. Millicent’s eyes are closed and Luna has gone back to cradling Millicent’s head in her hands and rests her forehead against Millicent’s. Luna places a chaste kiss on Millicent’s lips and rubs her nose against Millicent’s.

 

“Do you understand now?”

 

“Yes,” Millicent breathes, but the word is swallowed up in Luna’s next kiss, as if it is addictive, as if Luna is addicted to Millicent as much as Millicent is to her.

 

They kiss for a long time after that, exploring each other like they couldn’t before. For the first time Millicent doesn’t feel like she is doing something wrong or filthy. This feels wonderful, beautiful even and something that makes her this happy can’t possibly be wrong. She gathers Luna close and presses her face to Luna’s breasts, never wanting to let her go.

 

***

 

It is raining again, and lightning is stretching its pale fingers across the sky. The earthy scent of the gardens as they soak up the water from the thunderstorm raging outside fills her nostrils. The time to plant the almond trees is close. She stands by the window with her back to the bed whose single occupant is sleeping peacefully.

 

On nights like these she finds it hard to sleep. She stands by the window and watches life rage on outside. It reminds her that spring will eventually return, trees will begin budding and that life will always find a way. Despite that knowledge, even after all these years, what she feels inside sometimes still scares her. It is then that Millicent misses it, that all encompassing numbness. 

 

It had made her feel safe, like a cocoon that protected her from the world and its perils. But like every cocoon, it wasn’t made to last. She had been meant to emerge at some point, but she had been in the cocoon for so long she had forgotten how. She had also forgotten that there was a world on the outside. It had taken someone else, someone to see her, to help her become a breathing feeling human being again.

 

So much has changed and looking back at her life now, she wishes someone had told her that things would get better, that what she felt for the woman who had turned her life around wasn’t wrong or something to be despised. Instead it was something beautiful, something that made her burn up inside, a sweet agony whose ashes saw her emerge like the phoenix, always evolving and better for it.

 

Warm arms sneak around her middle from behind and a soft cheek is pressed against her back. Millicent covers the hands with hers without a second thought. Whoever tells her these days that this is wrong or that she doesn’t deserve it only ever gets one answer from her, that it isn’t about what we deserve, life isn’t fair and all we can do, if we get handed something so precious as happiness and love, is to keep it safe and treasure it.

 

“Come back to bed,” Luna says.

 

And Millicent does so, gladly.

~ fin ~


End file.
